Previously…
– After boldly interrupting the Objection fashion show to blast Molly and the Fishers, Loretta was found dead outside!
– Finn, who had been engaged in a confrontation with Loretta at the time of her death, was arrested.
– Juanita informed Travis that Rosie had gone to Seattle to visit her brother. Devastated, Travis left the house and turned up at the Wild Lady hours later, desperate to drink away whatever he had done in the interim.

The cinder block walls, covered in what appears to be several layers of white paint that could desperately use a fresh coat, feel as if they are closing in around Finn Campbell. The clock on the wall tells him that it is a little after midnight, but it feels more like 4 or 5 o’clock in the morning, for how exhausted he is. Between the actual time, the drama of the night, and the fact that he was drinking heavily even before he got to the Objection party, he feels as though he could fall asleep at any second — not that his current situation would allow him any rest.

He truly cannot fathom how he can be under arrest for murdering Loretta Ragan, when only hours ago, he was confronting her outside the studio where the party was being held. Loretta was, as always, giving as good as she got — only this time, she was directing her vitriol at Finn, something he hadn’t experienced prior.

“This is all your fault,” he spits as light pinpricks of rain begin to fall over them. “It should’ve been me up there, honoring my mother‘s legacy, not Molly.”

“I gave you all the tools you needed to succeed, Finn,” Loretta fires back. “If not for me, you wouldn’t have even gotten in the door at that second-rate dressmaker’s. You’re the one who hitched yourself to the wrong wagon.”

“Gia? She was my only hope after you left me twisting in the wind!”

Loretta scowls at him. “Your father would be so disappointed in you. So very disappointed.”

The conversation continues to replay in Finn’s mind, but what happened next never makes any more sense. Right before his eyes, Loretta seized up. Her already-pale skin turned whiter, then gray, and she collapsed to the damp pavement like a sack of rocks.

“Someone had to have seen it,” Finn mumbles to himself. “I didn’t lay a finger on her.” Still, the thought of facing murder charges shakes him to his very core. It was never supposed to be like this.

The sound of the door unlocking from the outside yanks him from his thoughts. He looks to the door, expecting to see some poorly dressed public defender entering the room. Instead, it is Brent Taylor.

“I told you, I’m not answering any questions until I have a lawyer with me,” Finn tells the police commander.

“That’s the thing,” Brent replies. “You aren’t getting a lawyer.”

The Wild Lady is almost entirely dark, save for a few glints of light coming in through the street-facing windows at the front of the bar. As Travis Fisher creeps down the stairs that lead from the living quarters upstairs to the establishment’s main area, he has a slightly eerie feeling. With his empty glass in hand, he moves behind the bar and begins using the soda gun to fill the glass with carbonated water.

He startles at the sound of keys unlocking the bar’s front door. He knows that Kathleen and Jimmy are both upstairs and asleep, so it can’t be either of them. Tensing up, he places the soda gun back in its holder.

“Hello?” he calls out.

“Who is that?” a female voice replies, and a moment later, Elly Vanderbilt comes striding through the saloon-style doors that separate the bar from the entryway. Even in the darkness, he can tell she is still attired in her dress from the Objection party tonight.

“It’s me,” Travis says.

Elly approaches the bar, the clack-clack of her high heels echoing through the large, empty space. “What are you doing here?”

“I came in for a few drinks. Kathleen made me promise I’d sleep it off in the spare room instead of driving home.” He takes a slug of the refreshing, bubbly water. “Needed water.”

“Ah.”

They lock eyes, an uncertain tension floating between them.

Travis clears his throat. “About earlier tonight–“

“Don’t worry about it,” Elly says with a wave of her hand. “It’s forgotten.”

“Thanks.” Still, his heart is beating too quickly to ignore. “It’s just… no one can find out.”

“They won’t. Especially after tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyebrows leap upward. “You haven’t heard?”

“What? No…”

“Uh, something kind of dramatic happened at the party,” she tells him, placing her elbows on the bar and leaning forward. “Loretta is dead.”

—–

Natalie Bishop carefully eases the door closed behind her. She crosses the living area of the upscale suite — the most expensive room in the King’s Bay Metropolitan Inn — and finds her husband sitting on the king-sized bed in the other bedroom, still wet from a shower and wearing only a fluffy white robe.

“He’s out cold,” Natalie says. “Tonight was a lot for him.”

Spencer continues staring ahead at the subtle white-and-gold print of the wallpaper. “And he doesn’t even know the half of it yet.”

“We’ll figure out the right way to tell him.”

“It’s going to be all over the news by the morning.”

“He’s in second grade. He doesn’t follow the news.”

Spencer’s eyes cut toward her, displaying a flash of rage that frightens Natalie a little.

“He’s going to find out that she’s dead, one way or another,” Spencer says. “We have to tell him in the morning.”

“Then we’ll tell him.” Natalie, still clad in her dress and jewelry from the party, folds her arms. “You know I haven’t been Loretta’s biggest fan–“

“She just died, Natalie. She was murdered.”

“I know. Jesus. You don’t have to jump down my throat. I’m only saying — I might not have been her biggest fan, but she was Peter’s grandma — Mimi, whatever. He’s spent a lot of time with her. So I know we need to be sensitive to that, too.”

“We do, yeah.” With a loud sigh, he drops his head into his hands. “It’s crazy to think that it was only a few hours ago that we booked this suite because we didn’t want to bring Peter back to the house she was in. And now she’s gone.”

Natalie studies him for a long moment.

“How are you feeling about her being gone? Really?” she asks.

“How am I feeling? Like shit. I don’t know.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Earlier this evening, I thought she was going to try and kidnap our son. Now she’s dead.”

“It’s okay to feel sad that she’s gone.”

“Gee, thanks for the permission,” he says caustically.

Natalie groans. “Forget it. I’m trying to be nice. I’m going to change, and then I’ll take the pullout.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the pullout.” Spencer rises from the bed and walks right past her, back into the living area. Natalie watches him go, surprised to find herself that there were something she could do to aid him in his grief.

—–

“What do you mean, I’m not getting a lawyer?” Finn asks with outrage. “This is unconstitutional. I want another phone call–“

“Hold it,” Brent says, raising a palm in Finn’s direction. “You aren’t getting a lawyer because you don’t need one. At least right now.”

Finn exerts extra effort to widen his weary eyes. “What do you mean?”

“We’re releasing you.”

A sensation of relief floods Finn’s system; he feels a sudden lightness overtake him. “Really?”

“There was no clear evidence of foul play at the scene,” Brent explains. “And we have a statement from a valet claiming that the altercation between you and Loretta never turned physical. Plus security footage that appears to back that up.”

“Thank god.” Finn exhales loudly and then hangs his head forward, feeling the full weight of his exhaustion now. “I told you.”

“Don’t get too smug. I’m gonna make a very strong suggestion that you not leave town or make yourself unavailable.”

“You just said you have a witness and security footage that clear me.”

“I said we have a witness and security footage that leave us without grounds to hold you,” Brent says.

Shaking his head, Finn pushes back the chair. Its legs scrape against the concrete floor, sending an unpleasant, grating sound bouncing off the cinder block walls.

“I’m free to go, though?” he asks.

Brent admits as much with only a terse nod. Finn can feel the intensity of the older man’s stare upon him as he shuffles quickly out of the room, desperate for a hot shower and his bed, though he isn’t sure in what order.

—–

“That’s insane,” Travis comments, his mouth agape as Elly finishes recounting the tale of Loretta’s intrusion at the fashion show and subsequent death in the parking lot. “To think that she’s dead… Wait, do we know she’s really dead?”

“It definitely seemed like it,” Elly says. She continues to lean against the bar in the dark establishment, though Travis notices a glint of light from outside sparkling in her copper-red hair. “They took her body away.”

“Okay. Then maybe she really is.” He nods slowly. “I know that she helped Nick Moriani fake his death and then come back to try and kill my entire family, basically — I was still a kid then, but still…”

“Maybe I’m going to hell for saying this, but I’m glad she’s dead. That monster tortured so many of us. She blackmailed me, and that wasn’t even half as bad as what she did to my uncle and Molly — or to you and Rosie.”

Travis feels a sting of pain in his chest at the reminder of what he and his wife have suffered due to Loretta. The anguish of losing Gabrielle is never far from his mind or his heart. Although Elly played a role in that pain, given how she represented Molly and Brent in the custody trial and dredged up Rosie’s history in court, he feels that he shouldn’t throw that in her face, especially in light of what transpired earlier tonight.

Before he can conjure up an appropriate response to Elly, he feels his iPhone vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. Well aware of the late hour, he reaches for it.

“What’s wrong?” Elly asks, watching him react to whatever he sees on the screen.

“It’s Rosie.” He sets down the water glass and hastens to open the newly received text message.

Elly observes him for several seconds, unsure whether she should inquire further. Unspoken tension spools around them like a gauze bandage, muffling the outside world but keeping them bound together.

I’m sorry I took off today. I needed to clear my head. My brother helped calm me down a little. I want you to know that I love you.

Travis feels his heart crack open as he reads the message once, twice, and then a third time.

“She’s fine,” he says, as much for his own benefit as Elly’s. “She’s with her brother.”

“Isn’t that where you thought she was?”

“Yeah, but…” He scans the message one more time, then shoves the phone back into his pocket. Versions of his own potential response swirl in his head. “About before. Promise me–“

“I promise,” Elly says, with a deathly seriousness that reminds him of the young woman he loved back in high school and college, as opposed to the harder-edged adult she has grown into. “I’ve got you, Travis.”

“Thank you.” He grabs the water glass, takes another drink from it, and turns. “I’m gonna…” He gestures toward the stairs.

“Yeah, I need to get some sleep, too. After I find a snack. They keep way better stuff down here than what I have in my apartment.”

That earns a half-smile from Travis. He turns and heads back up the stairs, hearing the creaking echo extra-loudly through the open space of the bar. His heart pounds at the idea that Loretta is really, truly dead — especially considering what happened earlier tonight.

END OF EPISODE 1241

What are Travis and Elly hiding?
How will Loretta’s death affect Spencer?
What really happened to Loretta?
Discuss it all in the comments below!

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